


blessed is he who comes in the name of the lord

by hesperia (erythea)



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Character Study, Dry Humping, F/M, Femdom, Implied/Referenced Incest, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Kissing, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, but if you blink you'll miss it, cuckolding i guess, i mean it's salome, implied background shirou/semi, no beta we die like men, not so much about the sex as it is about the crazy, references to the Oscar Wilde play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erythea/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: "Amakusa Shirou Tokisada. We must be in love."Not an assumption, but a command.
Relationships: Salome | Berserker/Amakusa Shirou Tokisada | Ruler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	blessed is he who comes in the name of the lord

**Author's Note:**

> Salome is so crazy and cute. Not really confident in how to write Amakusa in these situations, but eh. Salome is A Lot.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/erythean)!

Amakusa Shirou Tokisada was a holy man, so Salome loved him. His hair was like doves of white and lilies of silver. His eyes were like the gold of Arabia and honey of Judea. His body was like a stone pillar holding the gardens of Babylon. He did not look anything like the Baptist with his tattered rags and serpentine hair, but he was just as handsome. She knew it the moment she heard him speak, and oh, how he spoke. Whenever his voice echoed within the halls of the Wandering Sea, she imagined him preaching in a cistern, telling her of her mother's sins, and melted.

Salome and her mother were not so different. They lusted for the men of Chaldea. They hated what others could see — the flesh under the veils, the blood in her veins.

But Shirou was so kind. He was beautiful like Jokanaan, but not like Jokanaan. He looked at her and never turned away. The king never turned away either, but Shirou said even a sinner like her could find salvation in the kingdom of God. Was that true? If she danced for him, would that still be true? His words were like honey, and she was a fly relishing in his sticky sweetness. He spoke of a world with neither death nor pain and she so wished to join him. Him, her, Master and Jokanaan — oh! It was like the harems Europe wrote of. Silly things, the men from those shores, but when the thought of having all she wanted finally settled in her mind, not once did it ever leave.

Her heart suffered her to want it.

And so, she kissed him.

During a rayshift, against stone brick and away from prying eyes, Salome grabbed Shirou and gave him an open-mouthed kiss, hot and sweet like an oasis in the desert sun.

Yes, yes, this was what she believed in. Love in the face of death, and life after death in heaven. This must be what heaven sounded like: the rustle of fabric against skin, the breaths taken in the sultry heat, the moans of passion between the smack of their lips. Holy, holy, holy. In her head — that is, the heady feeling of breathlessness and tongues aflame — the chorus of angels had never been louder.

Shirou struggled, of course, but Salome liked to think he was only groping for a way to enjoy it. He should enjoy it. He would enjoy it if he looked at her, because she enjoyed him. Under her veil, she drank in his kiss and thanked his god for it. She took his tongue between his lips, said this was his body, and savored him. This was no proof of a covenant, but the pleasure would remain with her for a life everlasting.

Salome pulled away from his mouth, and silver strings formed between them and dribbled down his chin. Her hips rode his thigh, rubbing her wetness there. He panted and writhed, and she hummed in delight.

"Your mouth is so delicious, Shirou." She stroked his flushed cheek like she would a house pet. "I didn't know a mouth could be more delicious when attached to a body, and I love touching your body, but not as much as I love kissing you."

"Salome, please stop. This isn't right—"

He pushed her away, to no avail. He was adorable.

Amakusa Shirou Tokisada had the power to crush her before she could see the moon, but he didn't. That's what she loved about him.

Oh, how she loved him.

She loved him, so she kissed his mouth again, redder than the forbidden fruit.

"Hey, Shirou?" she said between tastes of lips and teeth. "What kind of person is the Son of Man? Please, oh, please tell me. Tell me with your mouth. Jokanaan never told me. His mouth was so sweet, so he never told me. Please, Shirou. Who is the Son of Man? Is He as beautiful as you?"

"I could never be as beautiful as He."

With a wet and tired mouth, Shirou smiled as if he was sorry.

As if he knew the truth and hated it.

"But you are plenty beautiful to me."

She dug her knee between his legs, felt him harden there, and an unfamiliar warmth flooded her core. His name was a litany on her lips every time she met his bones.

Oh, how she loved him!

"Shirou, Shirou. We're both bad, bad people, aren't we?" She smoothed a hand over his stole, imagined the things they could do with it. "That's why our Master summoned us."

Yes. It was so clear to her.

"For our Master so loved the world that they took, and took, and took." She giggled. The sound could break glass. "They're just like me. That's what I did. And you, too! Didn't you, Shirou?"

Shirou grit his teeth and parted his lips, though he didn't seem to hold any remorse. Only mild embarrassment. Salome can tell. She knew that feeling very, very well.

"You're not wrong," he finally replied. "We just don't like losing, I guess."

"Oh!" Salome laughed. "Oh! You are so cute. I never thought I would love someone just like me."

The crease in Shirou's brows deepened as his smile tried to accommodate it. "I'm not like you, unfortunately. A man like me is far much worse than a young girl from Judea."

The words pricked her heart. A girl? No one ever dared call her a girl.

Not even if it was true.

Many women wanted things, and people called them demons. What people didn't understand was Salome had everything. Emeralds and pearls, fruit and wine — all of it was given to her on a silver platter. What people didn't understand was everything had a price. Within those walls, she looked up at the moon and longed to be Diana. What people didn't understand was this: the daughter of Herodias never loved anything before, and the angels and saints were so handsome.

Shirou said it was a matter of course. It was human nature to be free. She saw the storm in his eyes, but he turned away with a smile, and she committed the side of his face to memory.

Now, as she studied his eyes like moons and mouth like fruit, she told herself to remember all of it.

"Shirou," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing their foreheads together. "Amakusa Shirou Tokisada. We must be in love."

Not an assumption, but a command.

"When Jokanaan had his head, he never loved me. You gaze upon me and see me as I am, so you must love me."

Love, love. She's found it again. His locks tickled her cheeks, and she caressed the last pillar of the garden of Babylon with greater fervor.

"...Your mind never ceases to amaze. But Salome, I can't accept your affection, nor can I—"

He said something after that, but Salome couldn't hear it. She was too busy admiring his handsome head. The shape of it. The taste of it.

"Shirou," said Salome, gentle as the beat of a devil's wing. "Your mouth is redder than the sweetest, oldest poison."

Her lips curled into a bloodstained sword.

"Suffer me to kiss thy mouth."


End file.
